


Crickets and Fireflies

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: First and Commander: Namira Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, South Reach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: Namira Lavellan travels to the summer home she shares with Cullen Rutherford.





	

It had been twenty-two summers since the fall of Corypheus, and Namira sat upon her hart, treading the familiar path to the cabin near South Reach.

This year they had not been able to make the journey together.   _Inquisitor_  was a forgotten title in some circles, but still Namira Lavellan’s name carried a weight far greater than she had ever dreamed, back when she sat in Dalish leathers at the feet of Keeper Deshanna.  She had worn many titles since _Inquisitor –_ Red Jenny, Arcane Adviser, Dalish Ambassador, Enchanter-Commander – and she suspected there might yet be more in her future.  The idea made her laugh sometimes.  The world always needed saving, didn’t it?

Cullen had undertaken the yearly journey earlier, taking the Mabari with him.  She missed their clownishness, their giant lumpiness at the foot of their bed.  She could not pick a favorite dog, not of the five they had owned together, but she thought perhaps that Frostback and Ghilan were the best.   _If_  she had to name favorites, which she did not like to.  Every dog had been amazing.

She urged her hart forward.  “It’s getting dark, _lethallin_ ,” she murmured into Alhannon’s ear.  She patted the red hart’s neck with the stump of her left arm.  Her traveling prosthesis, a light, delicate model, was bundled firmly in the pack behind her.  Even after all this time it still felt alien to her, and she used it only for certain tasks.  Otherwise she preferred to manage on her own.

Lightning bugs twinkled in the trees, drifting from branch to branch like candles given life.  The moon edged up above the horizon, visible only as she crested hills, its thin crescent glowing amid the gathering dim.  Summer nights in southern Ferelden were beautiful.  Some years, she missed them terribly; other years she had been so busy that she was surprised by the way her chest clenched and her heart bounded when she rode the path.

She came over the last hill, trotting down into the valley where the cabin stood.  They had chosen it, years ago, for its proximity to South Reach and Cullen’s family; yet it was secluded enough that it afforded some privacy away from curious eyes.  In the beginning there had been quite the gossip about the lost Rutherford brother and his one-armed Dalish wife, the Herald of Andraste.  Slowly it had changed with frequent trips into town, babysitting the Rutherford nephews and nieces, exchanging pelts for bread and ale, joining in the summer games.  Now she was just Namira, and she shared the gossip with the folks in town as readily as any South Reach shem.  

She chuckled.  It had been many years since she had thought of ‘shem’ seriously as a term for humans.  They were part of her clan now in a way she could have never predicted.  All in all, they were just people, really.  The thought warmed her.

The lights were on in the cabin, flickering through the windows.  Firelight and candlelight.  She could make him out on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, something in his hands, dogs at his feet.  She suspected he was whittling.  He was not especially good at it, despite the instruction he had had from Thom.  His hands shook more often than they once did, the blade hesitating, skipping on the wood.  Still she encouraged him.  He enjoyed it more for the process than the results, but she proudly displayed the clumsy Mabari and halla that he carved on their mantle at home.

She whistled, a lilting, cheery tune.  A coming-home song, an I’ve-missed-you song, one her mother used to sing when her father went out into the woods.  The Mabari barked their _you’re here! you’re here!_ barks, lumbering to their feet and running to greet her.  They frisked around Alhannon’s hooves, careful not to hurt the hart.  The hart, for her part, snorted amicably.

She dismounted a few feet from the cabin entrance, carefully tying Alhannon to the post mounted at the front path.  Frostback and Ghilan leapt at her, wagging their hind ends so furiously she thought their tails, what was left of them, might fly off.  She scritched them furiously under their chins, laughing.  “Go on, then,” she giggled.  The dogs bounded off into the dark, woofing their joy.

Cullen stood to greet her, dropping his whittling onto the small table beside his chair.  For a moment they simply looked at each other.

“You fixed your old shirt,” Namira said in surprise.  They were good stitches, close and careful.  She was glad to see it.

Cullen looked down at the patches on his elbows.  “Yes, well, it’s a fine shirt.  I thought it ought not to go to waste.”  He laughed.  “I would ask how you could tell in this dim light –”

“But then I’d say it’s an elf thing,” she said, grinning.  She ran up to him, smashing into him with a hug as fierce as a battle-cry.  “You ridiculous man, how I’ve missed you,” she said into his collar, fighting back sudden tears.

“My glorious wife,” Cullen laughed, kissing the top of her head, the tips of her ears, the end of her nose.  “Gone and saved the world again, have you?”  He kissed her on the mouth, hard, and she melted into him.   _Creators,_  but it was good to see him.

She pulled back, winking.  “Well, I got bored, you see.  I figured I’d better set things to right.  For the eighth time.”  She kissed him again.

He held her closely, pressed against the lean line of his body.  Even now he was still a powerful man, muscles strong and taut beneath linen and leather.  Her breath caught in her throat.  

“I’ve missed you so, Namira,” he whispered.  

She held him, and he held her, and the crickets sang in the wood.


End file.
